“LORD, Y’ALL! Welcome!” Colt bounced a little, tickled to death that Norv and Ryder had made it in. He’d told them to meet him over to the studio, because it was easy to find and they’d booked the same hotel he’d used, so it was a quick walk.
Between his studio work, his work with Kyle, and this, he was fixin’ to be as busy as a one-legged man in a butt-kicking competition.
Norv grabbed him up, spun him around. “Cajun! I heard you’d got lost up here in this scary place.”
“Ain’t all that scary, not really.”
Ryder shot him a look from under the brim of his cap. “It’s damn big.”
“Not really, dude. The whole island of Manhattan is only twenty-two square miles.” Timmy shook hands all around. “I’m Timmy. I’m your engineer. And these are your badges. They’ll get you into the instrument room, the studios, and also the break room. Welcome.” Timmy handed them each a little white card on a lanyard that matched the one Colt was already wearing.
Norv flipped the card over and back, frowning at it. “Damn, Cajun. Is this place for real?”
“Fancy-assed, eh? Timmy’s cool. One of us. All about the music.” And he wanted to get on it, wanted to find that thing that the three of them had together. There was a deep magic that lived where they sat in a triangle.
Timmy gave him a pat on the back and headed for the control room. “I’ll be where you need me when you need me.”
Ryder looked at the lanyard and shook his head, then put the card in his pocket and pulled out a little notebook. “Let’s do it. I started a thing on the plane, maybe got legs. Fingers itch.”
“I’ll grab my acoustic.” He damn near bounced on the way. These guys were a couple of the best, and they let him in like it was nothing, like he belonged.
Norv’s chuckle followed him. “Eager to write, huh?”
“You know it. I got a couple things to share.” Maybe more than a couple, but a few of them had a real shot to make them money.
Timmy’s voice came through the speaker into the studio. “You guys the take-a-break type or the bring-food-in type?”
“We’re the forgot-to-eat type.” Norv gave Timmy a toothy grin and pulled his guitar out of its case.
“Dude! My favorite. On it.”
Norv started tuning by ear, fingers moving over the strings playing scales and patterns. “Leave it raw right now, Tim. We’ll tell you if we want a mix. Just make sure you get everything.”
“Right on. You’re the boss.”
Yeah, that was true. Norv was his fucking hero. Ryder was more like him—just a guy who had a knack for this thing. Norv was a cowboy, pure Texas down to the bone, raw and beautiful and completely Ryder’s.
Ryder dragged a stool over, sat right next to his shoulder, and leaned in, showing him a couple of rough verses.
“Oh, I like that. I like that a lot.” He doodled over the notations, singing low as he worked to pick up the hook.
“Uh-huh.” Norv leaned back in his chair and started noodling, light notes here and there that filled out and started to take shape around the rhythm of the lyric. They found their sweet spot, the harmony building itself, the bridge like caramel in coffee.
Ryder’s pipes weren’t gonna sell a record, but his way with words, his instinct for rhythm and rhyme was magic, and he sang like he knew it. Eventually the words ran out, though, and Norv’s fingers went still and quiet too. Colt grinned, knowing they were listening, letting him bring it home.
So he did. He closed his eyes and let the good Lord speak through him, giving thanks as it worked like it had, every time. They all let the last notes of his guitar fade without a twitch, and then Ryder reached out and gave his knee a squeeze.
“Cut it there, Tim, and cue it up?”
Timmy nodded through the glass, and Ryder started scribbling notes.
“That was sweet, Colt. New York’s been good to you.” Norv stood up and stretched, setting the guitar down in a stand.
“I got me a honey. He does it for me, all the way down.”
“What? A Yankee?” Norv laughed, loud. “You’re joking.”
“Not even. He’s a dancer. He moves like… y’all. It’s like he’s made of music too.”
Ryder looked up from the book he’d been scribbling notes in. “A dancer, huh?” He and Norv exchanged a look.
Norv grinned at him. “He must be pretty.”
“Where does he dance? Let’s get a beer there later.”
“Ah-law!” He started laughing, just tickled as a pig in shit. “Y’all don’ know. He’s like high-dollar fancy dancing, not for dollar bills in his garter. He got him a YouTube. Come see.” He pulled up one of Kyle’s videos, eager to show his lover off.
About halfway through the video, Norv nodded. “He’s good.”
“Good?” Ryder gaped at Norv. “He’s fucking beautiful. Jesus, Colt.”
Norv just shook his head.
“Lucky me, eh? He’s like one of them statues, but….” But so alive and fierce and funny and odd and happy.
“But he moves. Wow. Lucky you.” Ryder laughed.
“You ready to play that back, Tim?”
Ryder elbowed Colt with a wink and a grin.
“You know it,” Timmy came right back. “You want to hear it?”
“Y’all ready to hear this back or what?”
“I’m ready. Bring it on, Timmy.” He grabbed his guitar so he could think.
Timmy played the track back, all their ramblings in the beginning leading into something that started to make sense. Ryder bobbed his head along and made notes when he wasn’t tapping his pen on his notebook. Norv just did that thing he always did. He leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes closed, put his feet up and listened all the way through.
For Norv, this was where the magic happened. He had a knack for taking all their raw creativity and focusing it into something they could sell. The playback had barely ended when he sat up, picked up his guitar and started playing again without letting anyone speak.
“Better get this, Timmy.” Ryder gave Timmy a wave and got a thumbs-up in response.
Colt settled on the floor where he was comfortable, and Ryder joined him, both of them listening to Norv, making notes for the next run-through.
They were still deep into work when the lights in the studio started to flash. Timmy pressed a piece of paper against the glass that read “Food and beer in break room” in weird black bubble letters. He grinned at them.
Ryder leaned into Norv. “Can we eat, boss?”
Norv reached down, hand in Ryder’s hair. “Always hungry, Georgia Boy.”
Lord, wasn’t that pretty?
“That’s a yes.” Ryder grinned, gave Norv a kiss, then popped up off the floor and tucked his little notebook safely into his pocket. Once he was up, though, he stretched, everything creaking. “Oh, man. I’m stiff. Stupid airplane.”
“It’s a long ways from Austin, huh?”
“Austin to Dallas, Dallas to Atlanta, Atlanta to here.” Ryder rolled his eyes. “He’s a cheapskate.”
Norv snorted. “Thrifty. And you like to fly.”
“Not that much. Didn’t Timmy’s sign say beer?” Ryder was the first one to the break room.
Norv clapped him on the back, chuckling softly. “He’s still got a hollow leg.”
“Shut up. I’m a growing boy! Ooh. Cheesesteak.” Ryder snagged a whole one off the counter.
“There’s a couple of subs too. And a bunch of salads. Next time you can look over the menus before you start, and I’ll order what you like.” Timmy grabbed a container of french fries and a Coke and sat down.
His phone started blowing up in his pocket.
Hey. Your boys get here okay?
Do you have dinner plans?
I hate this rain. What happened to summer?
Helloooooo lover
How’s it going?
All from Kyle and all at once. No cell service in the studio, the walls were too thick. He started replying to what he could.
You want to eat with N&R?
It’s raining? I ain’t seen the outside
Writing hard. I showed u off
Kyle came right back at him. There u are! That was followed by four red hearts. It’s pouring rain baby. Water everywhere. Where r N&R staying? Dinner @ my place or out?
I like raining. I can cook? At that fancy assed hotel I was at. He couldn’t stop smiling.
I would love u 2 cook. need me 2 shop text me a list. What do they drink? I have wine
“Is that your Yankee?” Ryder asked, mouth half-full of food.
“It is. Y’all want to have supper at his? I’ll make shrimp and grits, if you want.”
“Works for me,” Norv said. “Ry?”
“I can’t wait.”
Norv grinned at him. “Sounds like a plan.”
you writing good stuff? Am I going to love it?
I hope so. Miss u. Bad. Kind of stupidly bad.
Yeah. See you 2nite. Play hard. Love u.
Timmy interrupted before he could text back. “You guys plan to polish that up today? I’ve got another group coming in at eight; you’ll have to wrap by seven.”
“Y’all want to run another or stick with this one?” They could write at the hotel or at his place. The demos were what was important here. In a few days, they could bang out a shit-ton.
“I think we should leave it for now, take it home and shake it out a little. Can we get more studio time maybe late in the week or over the weekend?”
Timmy nodded. “I can slot you in Saturday night, dude.”
“What do you think, Cajun?”
He nodded. “Kyle’s working then, so I’m all yours, Timmy. Hell, I’m playing for that jazz band, ain’t I? That afternoon?”
Timmy nodded. “They’re here, uh… eight to five I think. A few hours on Sunday too.”
“Damn, you’re keeping busy, man.” Ryder nodded approvingly. “Folks know what you’re worth up here, I hope.”
“I’ve been hooking him up. They know. Colt’s not just a guitar keeping a seat warm.”
“It’s good to be busy. Keeps me in beer and out of trouble.” Hell, he knew that he needed to keep himself working so he could stay up here with Kyle. The man was important to him.
Ryder nodded and held up his beer. “Amen to that. Here’s to staying busy.”
“Got that right.” Norv clinked bottles with him.
“So glad y’all are here. I missed you like breathing.” They could drive a man buggy, but he loved them to death.
Norv stood up. “All right, y’all. Let’s get out of Timmy’s hair, huh? I’m just gonna pack up the Gibson and take it with.”
Ryder nodded and swallowed down the last bite of his cheesesteak. “Thanks for the grub, Timmy.”
“Anytime, dude. Like I said, next time remind me to give you the menu folder.”
“Will do. I like choices.”
Norv snorted. “He’ll eat anything, Timmy. Don’t let him kid you.”
“Y’all going back to the hotel?” He wasn’t sure whether they needed a nap or not.
“Yeah. Ryder was antsy and wanted to get started, but we need to get showers and all. Can we meet you at your Yankee’s place? Just text me the address.”
“His name is Kyle,” Timmy said, helpfully, with just a hint of snark.
Norv glanced over at Timmy and then back at him. “Sorry. Text me Kyle’s address?”
“Surely can. Y’all have a good afternoon. I’ll see you this evening.” He texted Norv the address first, then texted Kyle. Busy?
“Thanks, Tim. We’ll see you Saturday.”
“Right on, man.”
Just headed home. Walking in the rain. Joy, Kyle texted back.
Done for the day here—can I meet u?
How fast can u get here?
20. He was getting good at this subway thing.
c u soon. This time Kyle followed his text with red lipstick lips.
“I’ll text you if anything changes about Saturday with the jazz folks, dude. You enjoy your night.”
“Will do.” He waved to Timmy, then headed to meet his lover. They could shop or make love or both.